Tearing Me Apart
by snarkysweetness
Summary: He'd been here for hours, sitting by her side, unwilling to leave her alone. He was terrified of losing her. If she woke, he wanted to be there. If someone came for her, he wanted to be there to keep her safe. He was never letting her go again.


**Title:** Tearing Me Apart  
 **Author:** snarkysweetness  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Pairing:** Skyeward with Jemma  
 **Summary:** He'd been here for hours, sitting by her side, unwilling to leave her alone. He was terrified of losing her. If she woke, he wanted to be there. If someone came for her, he wanted to be there to keep her safe. He was never letting her go again.  
 **Warnings:** None.  
 **Disclaimer:** If I owned canon we wouldn't need no motherfucking fanfic to fix this mess.  
 **Author's Notes:** Tumblr anon requested Skyeward + 'you need to wake up because I can't do this without you' and I threw in 'shh, 'cmere' and 'you know it's okay to cry' because I'm evil.

"You should go to bed, I can stay with her," a small voice called from behind, breaking his trance.

He'd grown so used to the whirring and beeping of the machines he'd long ago blocked them out. He glanced up at her, blinking to keep his eyes open. He'd been here for hours, sitting by her side, unwilling to leave her alone.

"No, I'm fine, Jemma, you get some rest," he whispered, staring back down at Skye.

It had been three days since they'd administered the GH drug and his girl still hadn't stirred. Sure, she was no longer dying, but they weren't sure if she'd wake up. And if she did, would she still be their Skye? His pain-in-the-ass Rookie who showed up to training every morning with backed goods, tempting (and daring) him to break his diet, who relentlessly beat him at board games, and who filled his chest with so much warmth when she smiled at him he was sure he would combust.

He was terrified of losing her, which was why he refused to be apart from her. If she woke, he wanted to be there. If someone came for her, he wanted to be there to keep her safe.

"Grant," Jemma whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder as he fought back tears. This had been the hardest week of his life: watching the woman he loved fighting for her life, almost losing her, and the guilt.

He should have fucking been there.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not. At least take a break. Shower. Eat. Take a nap in your bed. I know you don't want to leave her, but you're no good to her if you don't take care of yourself. If she wakes up, she's going to need you and you can't help her if you're taking her place in that bed," Jemma scolded.

He knew she had a point but…

"Go. If anything changes, I'll find you," she promised, giving him a look of pity.

He was used to that look. It was the look everyone on the team had been giving him every time they took their turn sitting with the pair. Because that's what they were. A pair.

He was never letting her go again.

He'd stupidly pushed her away, knowing how much she meant to him. And he'd almost lost her. He wasn't going to go another day without telling her how he felt.

Skye was everything to him and he wasn't going to lose her again.

"One hour," he agreed, knowing he had to at least shower and eat something. But he could nap in this chair, like he'd been doing; he'd slept in worse places.

Jemma sighed but gave him a small nod, taking his place when he stood. He glanced back and watched as she opened a book she'd carried in with her and began quietly reading to Skye.

It physically pained him to leave but he went through the motions. Shaving. Showering. Putting on comfortable clothing. Making a sandwich. Taking his time to eat it instead of wolfing it down. Washing his dishes. Brushing his teeth. When that hour mark hit, he was right back in the Med Pod, greeted by a disappointed Jemma.

"At least try to nap," she pleaded, watching him from the doorway.

"I will," he lied, and she knew it.

Once they were alone again he leaned over and brushed back her hair, staring down at her face. They'd been through this every night; him begging her to wake up and her remaining in her coma. But it was a dance he was willing to do every night until she came back to him.

"I know you've been through hell, sweetheart," he whispered, taking her hand, "and that you need rest, but I need _you_. I need you to wake up, okay? Because I love you. And I promise, you can recover for as long as you need, but I need you to wake up. We all need you, Skye. Just wake up so we know you're going to be okay. And then you can nap for as long as you want. Just no more of this coma business, all right?"

He wiped at his eyes, knowing she couldn't hear him and he hated this.

"Skye, sweetheart," he whispered, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead, "you need to wake up because I can't do this without you."

Grant Ward couldn't live one more day of this life without her. She was everything to him. Why had been so stupid and spent so long fighting it? He was never going to forgive himself for his sheer stubbornness and stupidity.

Love wasn't a weakness, it was strength. And she was his.

"God, you're so fucking dramatic, I feel like I'm in a Nicholas Sparks movie."

Grant jumped in surprise.

"Skye!"

Grant took her face in his hands, doing his best not to cry. His girl was awake and wow was she pale and she looked so weak and oh God, was she in pain?

"JEMMA!" He yelled desperately while helping Skye sit up against her pillows.

"Try to drink this," he whispered, trying to steady his hands while he held a water bottle to her lips. She took a few sips before frowning and leaning back, closing her eyes. A moment later she waved him towards her.

Grant sat on the edge of her bed and took her hands gently. "What is it? What do you need?"

"You."

Grant blinked in disbelief, ignoring the tears that fell to his cheek when he did so.

"What?"

"Shh," she muttered, tugging on his hand. "C'mere," she ordered.

He did as he was told and lay next to her, wrapping an arm around her and holding her against his chest.

"Skye?"

"You were here the whole time?"

So, she'd heard him?

"Except when Jemma kicked me out," he answered honestly.

Skye smiled weakly. "Love you too," she muttered, closing her eyes.

She…Grant wrapped both arms around her and buried his face in her hair, trying not to cry.

"Save your strength, sweetheart," he whispered, still clinging to her. "I'm not losing you again."

"I'm not going anywhere," she said stubbornly, leaning up and pressing a kiss to his jaw. "You can stop worrying about me, it's time for me to worry about you."

He laughed through his tears. "I will never stop worrying about you, and I'm fine," he insisted.

"You know," she said, taking his hand again, "it's okay to cry."

He didn't know why that was what did it but when Jemma rushed in, Grant was still holding Skye in his arms, sobbing.

"I thought I'd lost you."

"But you didn't."

"I love you."

"I know."

"Sorry to break this up," Jemma interrupted, clearing her throat, "but I really need to examine Skye now."

Grant ran a hand through Skye's hair, not caring that his eyes were still filled with tears. He kissed the top of her head, then her temple, and finally her forehead.

"I'll be right outside."

"Get some rest," Skye whispered, gently touching his cheek.

"Not until I know you're going to be okay."

"Ugh," Skye groaned, rolling her eyes. "You're so stubborn."

"You're one to talk."

"OUT!" Jemma ordered, shooing Grant out of the room.

He did as he was told but stopped outside the door and stared in through the glass as Jemma began checking Skye's vitals. Skye met his eyes and gave him a small smile which he returned. Once he was sure she wasn't going to slip back into her coma he let himself fall to the floor. Resting the back of his head against the wall he closed his eyes, feeling relief wash over him.

Not only was his girl going to be okay but she loved him too.

She…Grant buried his face in his knees and let himself sob, unleashing everything he'd been bottling up for the past few days.

"You really should go to your own bed to rest but since I know you won't," Jemma 'tsked', emerging from the Med Pod, "I give you permission to share Skye's bed IF you promise to sleep in your own pod tomorrow."

Grant jumped to his feet and kissed Jemma's cheek. "Whatever you say, Doc."

"I mean it!" She warned as he let the pod's door close behind him and he ignored her because the only thing that mattered to him right now was Skye.

Skye smiled up at him and patted the mattress. She'd already made room for him and he happily slid in beside her and wrapped his arms around her.

"When can you come back to our room?"

Not his. Not hers. Theirs. He didn't care what Coulson had to say, he wasn't ever spending a night apart from her again. He'd suffer sharing a tiny pod with her if it meant he got to wake up to her every morning.

"Jemma wants me to stay in here for a few more days while she runs more tests, but I should be fine. You know Jemma, she worries."

"And with good reason."

Grant cupped her face in his hands and stared down at her, studying every inch of her beautiful face. She still looked terrible but she looked better than she had when she'd been dying so that was something.

"Skye-"

"Don't. I can't promise you're never going to lose me, but I can promise that I will be more careful next time."

"Next time I'm going to be there," he growled, wishing he'd been there to shoot Quinn in the face.

"Good," Skye said through a yawn, "we'll make excellent partners."

"Babe." She was so far away from that happening.

"Shh, I have a very good teacher; we'll be running missions together before you know it."

Her eyes were starting to droop. Sure, she'd been essentially sleeping for days, but she'd been shot and he knew how that could take it out of someone.

"We'll talk about this in the morning."

"Hmm 'kay, partner," she muttered, closing her eyes.

He rolled his eyes. "You're a child."

"And yet you love me," she teased.

Grant held her tighter and kissed the top of her head. "Until the day I die."

"See, partners."

He shook his head with a smile.

"Anything you want, sweetheart."

And as long as he never had to live life without her in it, she could call all the shots, for the rest of their lives.


End file.
